


Corner Coffee

by B0WSandARR0WS



Series: Corner Coffee [1]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: But the rest of them will probably show up at one point, Coffee Shop, F/F, M/M, Only a few avengers currently, Set like a few months before the Avengers, not an au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B0WSandARR0WS/pseuds/B0WSandARR0WS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annette and George run Corner Coffee, a small coffee shop in New York. When it becomes a place where SHIELD Agents hang out (except on Saturdays), Annette and George are thrown into a confusing-- and mildly dangerous-- world where almost everything is classified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corner Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the title. I was trying to find something better than Corner Coffee-- I gave up after a while. I do not own any of the marvel characters here and any mistakes are mine, and mine alone.  
> Comments or critiques are much appreciated.  
> Please tell me if I get any  
> Enjoy!

Ever since Annette was little, she always wanted to cook. She’d make coffee for her parents in the morning and make soda cocktails with fanta and coke and sprite, bake absolutely all the time so that the kitchen was constantly filled with sweet smells and delicious treats, make cakes and biscuits and meringues and peppermint creams. She began to cook dinner for her family once a week, and once grew to twice which grew to three times until she was cooking lunch and dinner every night, making coffee for her parents in the morning. And she loved it.

Then Annette met George. George was English and fabulously gay, with a flair for art and interior design (even though he was much better at frosting cupcakes), and he made the best coffee she’d ever tasted. They found each other in college and became best friends instantly, sharing on their respective dreams and vowing to move to New York and open their own coffee shop together as they worked their way through college. They scrimped and saved every spare penny, Annette working double or even triple shifts in a diner and George working in a camping store (he still shudders thinking about it), picking up odd jobs where he could. By the end of their degrees, together they had saved enough money to open their own shop, taking a run-down little building and polishing it up until it was a beautiful image of George’s interior design skills and Annette’s perfectionism. And thus was **Corner Coffee** born.

+++

Annette and George have been running **Corner Coffee** for nearly a year now, and things are going smoothly up until Super Hot Guy walks in. Well, not exactly walks. More like, runs in and flattens himself against the door, panting.

It’s just about to be getting dark when Super Hot Guy sprints inside and takes a second to figure out where he is, exactly. He glances around (carefully avoiding standing near or in sight of any windows) and smiles when he sees the décor, (all George, warm brown walls striped vertically with purple and plastered with random sepia pictures, violet fabric lamps hanging from the ceiling, faded purple and brown armchairs dotted around the room and surrounding wooden tables, brown leather stools by the counter) shrugging off his jacket and looping it over his arm as he walks up to her, asking for ‘the strongest coffee you’ve got’. Annette raises an eyebrow, turning back to the coffee machine and saying tiredly,

“Just tell me, are you a criminal.” Super Cute Guy laughs breathlessly. Damn it, why couldn’t she be turning around for that? Oh, right. Making coffee, Annette. Screw your head on!

“No, I er, just saw my ex. I ran.” He says, breathing hard. “Please could you hide me?” With those adorable eyes, no one could refuse. Annette smiles at him.

“Sure, with arms like that, how could I say no? Get over here.” He vaults over the counter and crouches down, staying utterly immobile and pressed up against her knees. Annette passes him the coffee— “Oh, wait! Before you drink that, do you have any heart problems or trouble with your eyesight?” Super Hot Guy looks weirded out. Damn. “I have to say that because. It’s just that.” Awkward pause. “It’s, um, I mean _the coffee_ , uh it’s. Very strong! The coffee is very strong, uh, someone said that it could make a blind man see once, y’know, um. I didn’t invent it my friend George did, he’swithmeattheshop…” Smooth, Annette, real smooth.

“It could be the first properly strong coffee I’ve had for quite a while then.” He says smiling. Shit, that’s cute. Super Hot Guy breathes in the coffee and grins, then proceeds to practically inhale the stuff with his eyes closed in pleasure.

“I sure hope so--” Crap, Annette! Do NOT squeak like that when you are in the company of Super Hot Guys whose pale grey T-Shirts are sticking to their wonderfully tanned stomachs—hey, is that a six-pack—FOCUS!

“I like the purple.” He whispers. The opening doorbell tinkles and a gorgeous but somehow evil-looking redhead steps in gracefully. Super Hot Guy’s hand wraps around her leg and squeezes twice, a signal for _this is my ex; PLEASE keep me hidden from her_. She walks in and smiles at the décor, with a slightly smug and incredibly evil look like _I know he’s here. MWHAHAHAHAHA!_

“Hi, welcome to **Corner Coffee** , can I get you anything?” Annette chirps, being ultra-friendly.

“Well, this _is_ a coffee shop…”Evil Redhead says drily. Annette laughs nervously. “Can I just have a cup of your strongest coffee please.”

“Sure,” Annette says, still with the perky smile. As she turns around to make it, she asks The Evil Redhead, “No heart conditions or eye problems? Sorry, George makes me check. Personally, I’m too chicken to try it when it comes with a warning like that--”

“No, I’ve got no… conditions.” She takes the coffee with a smile. “Thanks.” She says, turning to leave, and Super Hot Guy beside her breathes out a sigh of relief. Evil Redhead stops in the middle of the path to the door and smiles smugly. Her head cocks to the side and she says sharply, “Barton, I know you’re in here.”

The warm body by Annette’s knees tenses up. Evil Redhead smiles, looking even more Evil than before. She leans over the counter and spies the man, pressed down on the floor with his eyes closed as if he’s cringing. Suddenly, Super Hot Guy yelps and lets out a litany of,

”Ow, Ow, Nat! OW, Come on, no, that’s not—FUNNY JESUS CHRIST STOP IT _god_ that’s painful--- NATASHA!” The Evil Redhead (probably Natasha, but Annette’s not going to risk it just in case because this woman is _terrifying_ ) grabs his ear and pulls him up by it, whispering in his ear,

“Found you.” She drags him out from behind the counter and carries on, speaking to him as if she was scolding a child. “Clint. I thought we said _no civilians_. You cheated—“

“Hey, there was no cheating going on here! Me and Annette were just talking, y’know, and I was grabbing coffee—oh, God Nat, you have to try this coffee, it’s amazing it’s like the one at work but _nice--_ ”

“Clint. Shut up. Yes, you cheated, because she was hiding you. Yes, I have tried the coffee and, yes, it is the most motherfucking amazing coffee I have ever tasted and _we will be coming back.”_ Evil Redhead turns to Annette. “What excuse did he use on you? Was he NYPD again?”

“Uh…” Annette stammers. “He said he wasn’t a criminal. Was that a lie?” Evil Redhead and Super Hot Guy laugh.

“Let’s just say that we’re reformed.” Super Hot Guy says. What the hell is going on here?

“What else did he say to you?”

“He said he saw his ex and ran.”

“Neither of those things is a lie! I saw you, _my ex,_ and I ran. Not a lie.” Evil Redhead shrugs.

“Fine. But I’m still kicking your ass in the sparring ring when we get home.” Super Hot Guy whines and Evil Redhead laughs. Evilly. They both leave.

That’s it. Annette is getting a Tazer. 

+++

“—and then, Evil Redhead said something about kicking his ass and a sparring ring, and I think they live together.” Annette finally finishes nattering to George while he bakes and she washes dishes.

“Okay, ‘Nette, stop! That was _way_ too much detail, so I kind of believe you. You sure they said they’d be back?”

“Yeah, Super Hot Guy was practically raving about your coffee.”

“I don’t know… You sure it was the super strong, because that makes people’s eyes water.”

“’Course! Evil Redhead loved it too.”

“Your nicknames for people are weird.”

“Would you expect anything less of me?” She says. When George shakes his head, sighing, Annette continues. “Besides, who are you to talk? You were Mr. Fabulous when I first met you.”

“By no fault of my own! And that is the most awesome nickname _ever._ ”

“Sure, you’d think that. Oh, they both loved the purple decorations.” George blushes and smiles. 

“Really?” George’s doing that thing where he clasps his hands in front of him and fiddles until someone says something, and he looks adorably hopeful. He’d had that design idea for seven years now.

“Really. Super Hot Guy had an almost manic grin on his face.”

“ You know, I seriously doubt your hotness scale. He sounds kind of childish.” Annette gasps exaggeratedly as she moves to go and greet potential customers, swinging through the doors into the shop and calling back to George,

“How dare you doubt my hotness scale! I’ll have you know that—Oh crap. GEORGE! Get in here!” Annette shouts back to the kitchen when she sees that coming in to the coffee shop is Evil Redhead, chattering excitedly to a guy in a suit that is practically dragging Super Hot Guy in by the wrist.

George comes out of the kitchen, floury pale yellow apron and all, with his hands on his hips, saying sternly,

“Annette, darling, you know I love you dearly but I am not your slave and I do not find it amusing that you think you can just call me away from my baking duties whenever you feel like it, luckily I was just kneading some dough but I could have been—“his stream of words cuts off when he realizes that standing in front of him is in fact a Super Hot Guy and an Evil-looking Redhead. Almost silently, he moves closer and mutters to Annette, “Hey, ‘Nette, is that…”

“Super Hot Guy and The Evil Redhead, yes, definitely.” She finishes.

“I will never doubt your hotness scale again, God just look at those arms!”

“Uh-huh. Told you so.” Much louder this time, George says,

“Welcome to **Corner Coffee** , can I get you something?” Super Hot Guy speaks first after an awkward silence where Suit Dude pokes his arm and gives him a meaningful look.

“Um… I’m sorry.” Suit Dude stares at Evil Redhead, _hard._

“I am sorry if Clint and I caused you any inconvenience.” She says grudgingly, glaring at Suit Dude. “But,” She carries on, “In my defense, Clint was being stupid, and--” Suit Dude shuts her off with a sharp look. “But, Phil, he cheated--”

Super Hot Guy cuts in indignantly. “I did not cheat!”

“You did too!”

“Did not, we were just talking--”

“Oh yeah, talking behind the counter curled up with your eyes closed--”

“You just can’t admit that I was winning!”

“Winning? It what universe would _that_ be classified as winning?” George looks just as bewildered by their squabbling as Annette feels.

“In every universe.”

“Don’t get snarky with me!”

“Why?”

“You damn well fucking know why.”

“Why?”

“Barton, if you don’t stop _right now--_ ”

“Why?”

“That’s IT--” Evil Redhead starts jabbering at him in what sound like Russian or Czech, interspersed with little ‘why?’s from Super Hot Guy. Suit Dude sighs.

“Enough.”

“But--”

“Enough! Stop. Now. Go and sit down, and I will bring you coffee. _No arguing._ ” Really Hot Guy and The Evil Redhead sit down on opposite sides of a purple booth, looking away from each other with their arms crossed. Suit Dude looks at George and Annette and gives a tense smile. “I swear to god, they are just like children and I am cursed with being their babysitter. Can I have three of your strongest coffees please?” George must pity him, because he says,

“It’s on the house. Seriously, I don’t know how you just did that.” Annette thinks she hears a mumbled,

“Neither do I.”

“Any heart conditions or eye problems for you? I already know about those two.”

“Nope.” Suit Dude hesitates before speaking again, after a long pause while George and Annette make coffee and Suit Dude drums his fingers on the counter. “Just… how much did they damage here? It’s okay, I’ll cover the replacement costs.” George looks at Annette nervously.

“Um. Nothing? I don’t really know, I wasn’t in--”

“No, they didn’t break anything. Do they do that a lot?” Suit Dude looks at Annette, confused like he was expecting something awful.

“Yes. Are you completely sure they didn’t... destroy any furniture? No bullet holes? Holes in the floor?”

“I hope that’s sarcasm.”

“No.”

“Okay, here’s your coffee.”

Annette knows that this is NYC, home of Iron Man and such, but still. New York is _weird._

+++

“You’re still not getting a Tazer, you know that right?” George says, turning to sprinkle nutmeg onto his pastries and placing them on the display.

“George, you didn’t see them before. They were friggin’ _scary._ ”

“I don’t care! I’m not letting you.”

“George!”

“Nuh-huh. No Tazer. Something like this happens again, _then_ you can get a Tazer.”

“Fine.”

“But did you see how he was talking to them? They were just like his kids.” George shifts positions kneading and effortlessly changes the subject.

“Who, Suit Dude?”

“Suit Dude? Please, that’s ridiculous. He’s, like, a Secret Agent. Like, Agent Suit!”

“Yeah, that’s much better. Agent Suit…”

“What, you’re just changing his name?”

“Hey! If you had given me something better than Mr. Fabulous, I would’ve changed you too.”

“There is nothing better than Mr Fabulous, but it’s the thought that counts. Ooh, and the others, they must be, like, his Agents.”

“Why? Can’t he have plain old friends?”

“Yes, but. Oh, you’re no fun!” Annette makes another coffee and goes back to the kitchen to load another batch of cookies into the oven. When she gets back to the counter, George says,

“Hey, ‘Nette?”

“Yeah?”

“You think of me as George now, right?”

Annette carefully doesn’t answer.

+++  
It seems that Agent Suit, Hot Guy (after his display at the shop, he was no longer Super Hot) and Evil Redhead have brought in some friends, and now the once quiet coffee shop is normally filled with people. Agent Suit brings in Bald With Glasses, Whoops! I Saw Your Gun, Jackie Chan and Serious Glaring Woman himself, but others come in and stay for The Coffee. (It’s capitalized now, and called The Coffee instead of whatever George had named it because it’s pretty much the thing that most people who come in order, with something baked and some sort of foam, spice or topping in general added.) Most of the people who come now wear suits, and all of The Suits close their eyes and sigh with the same expression on their faces once they have The Coffee.  Now, there’s always a flood of people rushing in early in the morning, and really ( _REALLY_ ) late at night, but the shop is always empty at three in the afternoon and filled with The Normal People and no Suits on Saturdays. No Suits, except for Hot Guy. And sometimes Evil Redhead.

Currently, Hot Guy (Clint now) leans on the counter with his coffee in his hand. It’s a Saturday, so **Corner Coffee** is filled with The Normal People, quietly engaged in their conversations or just stopping by for the excellent coffee and baked goods. The favorite today are these little apple and cinnamon puff pastries that George made, and they seem to be quite a hit—judging by the fact that Clint has eaten seven already and he’s only been in for twenty minutes.

Clint (bless him) has taken to helping out on Thursdays, still refusing any of the pay he should be getting as an somewhat unofficial waiter, and staying with them on Saturdays because “sometimes it just helps to have someone to talk to”. He’s been getting baking ‘lessons’ from George and Annette on the quiet periods, too. It’s gotten to the point that George is nearly finished making him a purple apron, a surprise for Clint’s birthday which Annette has been tasked with finding out. Speaking of…

“Hey, Clint, when’s your birthday?”Annette asks, desperately trying to at least appear casual. Clint peeks out from behind his Coffee with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Why do you want to know?” Oh crap. She’s going to have to lie now, isn’t she? Annette _hates_ lying, mostly because she’s so terrible at it and she blows everything way out of proportion—case in point, she’s blushing fire-truck red for absolutely no reason at all, she can’t bring herself to look directly into Clint’s eyes, her heartbeat is hammering and one of her hands seems to have found its way to the base of her head and is scratching there awkwardly. _He knows!_

“There is a perfectly good reason for that! It is, um. Er...” Annette. Find. Something. To say. NOW _._ “George.” DON’T TELL HIM IT’S GEORGE YOU _IDIOT!_ “—gina? Georgina. Georgina…” _No, wait, you can say George._ “No, no, no, it’s George.” _Use your words, ‘Nette._ ”George wants to… Oh, George wants to know everyone’s birthday!”

“Why?” Clint asks, and Annette has just used up her only batch of even slightly decent lies for the month.

“He’s a festive guy?” You weakling.

“What?” YOU ARE CONFUSING HIM, CHANGE THE SUBJECT.

"Did I tell you I'm single?"

"No?"

"Well, I'm single."

"Okay...?"

"And." She looks at him, trying to will him to get it. Soon, understanding dawns in his eyes.

"Oh! Oh. Um.. 'Nette, you're great but..." He pauses. "I'm gay."

"Okay. This is awkward."

"Oh, yeah." Just then, the doorbell tinkles.

“Oh, look, a customer! Guess I’ll be going, then.” Saved by the bell. Literally. Annette practically scurries to the other side of the counter, ignoring Clint calling out that he’s going to help George in the kitchen.

“Welcome to **Corner Coffee** , can I get you something?” The guy in front of her is quite young; gangly, tall and incredibly pale, with long dark hair that falls into his eyes and hangs just past his ears. He’s dressed in loose clothes, a hoodie and jeans and a red baseball cap but there’s something strange about him,  like the way he keeps shifting around and swallowing nervously, or the way both his hands are tucked into his hoodie pocket and he won’t look directly at Annette. Maybe he’s nervous around girls. Annette smiles kindly to reassure him. “Can I get you something?” She says again. Nervous Guy shifts again, and his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

“Yeah. Can I just have one of those pastries?” He says, gesturing weakly.

“Sure, hon.” Annette feels like being nice to him. He’s cute. Not in _that_ way. Kind of like a puppy. A tall, awkward and nervous puppy. That talks. Moving on... She turns around, grabbing one of the pastries and sprinkling some extra cinnamon on top, saying,  
"Would you like anything-- oh." The words die in her mouth as she looks up and sees the gun positioned in his shaking hands, his trembling finger on the trigger.


End file.
